


College with Stiles 101 (feat. some werewolves and a couple of slintheads)

by adrastea_bia_soteria



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, BAMF Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Humor, Mild Blood, Slow To Update, Stiles Stilinski Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski Has Scars, Stiles Stilinski Has Secrets, Stiles Stilinski is Thomas (Maze Runner), WICKED | WCKD is Not Good, no beta we die like allison
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:54:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28677003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrastea_bia_soteria/pseuds/adrastea_bia_soteria
Summary: Stiles couldn’t get a break.It all started when Scott was bitten which set off a chain reaction of even more crazy things like werewolves, a kanima, more werewolves, getting possessed, getting kidnapped a few times, saving Derek from a not-so-dead Kate, even more werewolves, a werecoyote, some things which should’ve stayed in their own mythologies, and a few hunters on top of that.And, to top it all off, Stiles had been taken by some “misguided” (as the FBI said) organisation called WICKED who’d chucked him inside some maze for a couple of months and called him Thomas for a while. So, while his supernatural friends were dealing with invisible wrinkly cowboys, he was watching his Glader and Scorcher friends die at the hands of Ava Paige.After being forced to kill his best friend and watching his other best friend sacrifice herself for him, Scott’s asshole of a dad had turned up to save them but Stiles thought that it was too little too late.He was forced to return to Beacon Hills, and he never saw his new friends again. He went back to being Stiles, the sarcastic human in the pack, instead of Thomas, the fearless leader.
Relationships: Aris Jones & Thomas (Maze Runner), Brenda & Thomas (Maze Runner), Frypan & Thomas (Maze Runner), Gally & Thomas (Maze Runner), Harriet & Thomas (Maze Runner), Isaac Lahey & Stiles Stilinski, Minho & Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Minho & Thomas (Maze Runner), Newt & Thomas (Maze Runner), Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski, Sonya | Elizabeth "Lizzy" & Thomas (Maze Runner), Stiles Stilinski & Jackson Whittemore, Stiles Stilinski & Kira Yukimura, Stiles Stilinski & The Pack
Comments: 16
Kudos: 141





	1. Introduction (kinda)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! and welcome to the mess that is this: an author writing her first fanfiction (at least on ao3) with no beta readers, a jammed space key, and far too much caffeine paired with far too little sleep. i have a few other things written in other places or hidden in the depths of my mind, but this is the first thing i'll publish on ao3 so i hope you enjoy!
> 
> at the moment, i'm not really sure where this story is going in terms of romantic pairings or any real plotline, so i will absolutely accept any and all comments with recommendations or ideas for some inspiration (and i will credit you once i figure out how), but for now, get a snack, some juice, pet a pet, and take a minute to read a work about teen wolf and the maze runner.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> small introduction to this fic...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, just a small introduction, not much else to say :)

Stiles couldn’t get a break.

It all started when Scott was bitten which set off a chain reaction of even more crazy things like werewolves, a kanima, more werewolves, getting possessed, getting kidnapped a few times, saving Derek from a not-so-dead Kate, even more werewolves, a werecoyote, some things which should’ve stayed in their own mythologies, and a few hunters on top of that.

And, to top it all off, Stiles had been taken by some “misguided” (as the FBI said) organisation called WICKED who’d chucked him inside some maze for a couple of months and called him Thomas for a while. So, while his supernatural friends were dealing with invisible wrinkly cowboys, he was watching his Glader and Scorcher friends die at the hands of Ava Paige.

After being forced to kill his best friend and watching his other best friend sacrifice herself for him, Scott’s asshole of a dad had turned up to save them but Stiles thought that it was too little too late.

He was forced to return to Beacon Hills, and he never saw his new friends again. He went back to being Stiles, the sarcastic human in the pack, instead of Thomas, the fearless leader. Sometimes he missed being Thomas, but mostly he just missed Minho, Brenda, Frypan, _Newt. Teresa. Chuck. Alby._ He would even be happy to see Gally.

At some point, the supernatural threats in Beacon Hills seemed to subside, and Stiles could finally go to college. He had decided against carrying on with the FBI after losing his toe - he might lose his life in a different case and it just felt too soon after WICKED.

He’d never told his pack about what happened to him because they’d just thought he was in a train station or wherever the Ghost Riders took people. And, to be honest, he was perfectly fine with them thinking his nightmares were from being targeted by Peter or by being possessed, so he never bothered to correct them because then he would have to explain everything that happened and he didn’t think he was ready to dredge up those old memories without Minho to calm him down.

So, once they’d defeated Tamora and Gerard (for the most part), Stiles had packed up as fast as he could, said his goodbyes, and left straight for college. Although he was leaving, he made sure the pack knew they were all welcome to visit whenever they wanted - if they wanted advice (unlikely), if they wanted comfort from a pack member (more likely; Stiles was good at giving hugs), or if Deaton was out somewhere and they needed help getting wolfsbane out of their system or something otherwise incapacitating (most likely).

Scott insisted on driving all the way to Stiles’ student dorm to help him unpack and be the first to find out his new information so he could relay it back to the rest of the pack who were apparently all now coming for a visit in a week. Just great.

Stiles really couldn’t get a break.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles settles into his new life without the usually constant presence of the pack, and sees some familiar faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi again! here's my official disclaimer that i do not own teen wolf or the maze runner in any way, shape, or form. i do not own the characters or any of their previous storylines. on a more lighthearted (ish) note, i would like to warn from now that i have no writing schedule, suffer from writer's block, and am prone to becoming disinterested in my own storylines. however, i am very determined to see this through to the end.

While he sat in the Waiting Room of the Administrations’ Office, Stiles had had a lot of time to think. When he’d initially been “rescued” from WICKED, he’d been angry at the pack because they just didn’t understand how much he’d gone through. But, not too soon after, he’d realised that he couldn’t hold it against them. It wasn’t their fault - it was WICKED’s. And even if Scott or the rest of the pack had no idea what he’d gone through, they’d still been there for him to comfort him after a nightmare, or sneak into his room at night to give him reassurance through cuddling. They didn’t know that he was most likely traumatised for the rest of his life, but they were pack. They were family. Well, his second family. Stiles was going to miss all of them. Even Jackson. And suddenly he found himself wanting them to visit every weekend. He was considering packing up right then and there and going back to Beacon Hills, because, what the hell was he thinking? Leaving his pack for a few years? And his dad? Had he forgotten the meaning of the word _pack_?

But before Stiles could go back to his dorm, the door opened and he was welcomed into another room.

The Head of Administrations was a woman who looked like she’d been born before Jesus Christ himself. The hair that was still left on her head was a stark white that clashed with her dark skin, and despite looking so old, she terrified Stiles. Maybe it was some sort of long lasting trauma from Gerard.

Stiles barely took in a word of what he was being told; he was too busy making plans in his head for pack night to be in his dorm every week. As if he was on autopilot, he thanked the woman when she’d finished speaking and headed to his room to text Scott that pack night was now happening at his dorm every week to which Scott replied _yes_ with five exclamation marks and three smiley faces. Stiles lay down on his bed and realised he probably should’ve been listening to that woman telling him about his roommate and other whatnot that would end up being important. He cursed the werewolves for making him so dependent on their presence. He’d never been like that in the Glade or the Scorch. He’d had to look after himself and everyone else since he’d ended up as their leader.

He racked his brain trying to recall any information from the past ten minutes but drew a blank. Great. Now all he knew was his roommate and everyone else on his floor would be arriving next week. He didn’t even have any names. This time Stiles cursed his ADHD.

\----

The week passed far too slowly for Stiles’ liking. The pack had come over (Yes, Jackson too), but Stiles really hadn’t wanted them to leave as soon as they did. He was already missing them ten minutes after they’d gone back to Beacon Hills.

Scott and Lydia came to visit him a couple more times since, but it wasn’t enough. Stiles was beginning to regret going to college. But the pack assured him they were fine, despite a pack member being so far away from the rest of them. So, Stiles stayed.

Finally, after what felt like years, his floormates arrived. He’d thought it was slightly strange that they were all arriving on the same day, but he was more preoccupied with the fact that he’d been given the smallest room on the floor.

It wasn’t a horrible room, but after he’d broken into the other rooms while they were still empty, he’d decided there was some unfair treatment within the whole thing. His room had two single beds, two small desks which looked as if they would collapse at any moment, and a tiny adjoining bathroom with a shower and a toilet. There was a kitchen too, but it only had a mini fridge and an extremely dirty microwave. The other rooms, in question, were identical. They each had three double beds - _three_ \- a bathtub, shower, two toilets, three desks which Stiles had originally mistaken for antique ones, a kitchen with a proper fridge, oven, microwave, and stove. Basically, Stiles’ room was shit. He was ready to apologise to his roommate. His only saving grace was that his room was the only one with a TV. So he could hook up his Xbox. Obviously.

Since Stiles didn’t know his floormates, he decided to stay in his room while they unloaded until someone came to introduce themselves. What he wasn’t expecting, was to actually know his floormates. He thought he’d have a heart attack when he answered the door. Because when he opened it, he saw someone he thought he’d never see again. Minho. He tried to say _hi_ but the word caught in his throat.

“Um, hi, are you Mi- My- are you my roommate?” Minho asked, still staring down at the paper. And, because Stiles was currently having some difficulty speaking, he hugged Minho. He thinks it was at that point Minho reverted back to his glader self, because he judo flipped Stiles yelling, “What the shuck, you piece of klunk?!” All of their other floormates came out of their rooms to see what was going on, and it was only when a girl (Who Stiles later found out was either Sonya or Harriet) gasped and rushed to pry Minho off of Stiles. But before she could, he flipped Minho and himself over, holding an arm to Minho’s throat. “It’s me, shank!”

Suddenly, various confused or surprised shouts of _Thomas_ rang out, as Stiles stood up and brushed himself off.

“Well how the hell did this happen?” he asked, addressing no one in particular.

Everyone started talking at once, but they immediately quieted down when Stiles told them so.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to hear from all of you, I’m going to get a headache, so I need one person to tell me everything that’s happened since we were separated and then I can tell you guys my side of it. Fry, you’re the most sensible out of the lot, you start.”

“Not much, Thomas. We were separated and we all went back to our old lives. Pretty boring. School, and that’s it. Then we all got in contact, except you, and we decided to come to college together.” Frypan explained.

“And no one tried to find me? No one?” Stiles asked, hurt.

At once, the others rushed to defend themselves.

“We did!” Harriet exclaimed.

“But you’d practically vanished off the face of the earth.” Sonya added.

“We just thought that you were ignoring us. You didn’t want us to come along and ruin your new normal life.” Brenda said, also looking hurt.

If Stiles hadn’t been so happy/sad/angry/confused, he would’ve laughed at the situation. He’d almost snorted when Brenda had called his life _normal_. As if.

“So everyone thought I was dodging you?” Stiles clarified.

His friends nodded collectively.

“What a bunch of slintheads,” he muttered, shaking his head.

They stood in silence in the corridor for a few awkward moments, in which Stiles realised they were waiting for his direction. He’d forgotten what it was like to be the leader and not the sidekick.

“Alright, shanks, I guess you all need to be caught up. Movie night?”

Nods of approval.

“Okay, Fry, you’re on snacks, obviously. Minho, get your ass in here and unpack. When you’re done, make a pillow fort with Aris. Gally, I never thought I’d say this, but I miss your weird ass brew. If you can get your hands on anything like it, please do. Sonya and Harriet, you’re on movies, shows, whatever. Brenda, we need as many blankets as you can find.”

It amazed Stiles how easily he could switch between the helpless human of the pack to the leader of the Gladers and Scorchers.

“What are you gonna do?” Minho asked.

A mischievous smile grew on Stiles’ face. “I’m gonna see how I can make the TV… better.”

\----

After a lot of shouting, and a few electric shocks on Stiles’ part, they’d gathered themselves in a nest of fluffy blankets and huddled together like penguins. The snacks disappeared quickly, and they watched everything Sonya and Harriet had picked out in that much time too. To Stiles’ horror, everyone was still awake, and wanting to hear about what he’d done after being taken from the Safe Haven. He knew he couldn’t just go blabbing about the supernatural and the other million reasons why he had nightmares, so he settled on the shorter version of his life. Like, the really short version seeing as there was nothing to say if he didn’t mention the supernatural. His friends seemed to be satisfied, though, and before Stiles knew it, he was waking up with a crick in his neck, and everyone piled on the floor, while the TV still blared something on repeat.

Stiles didn’t have it in him to be mad at them. He’d missed them too much. _They_ were his first family. Maybe the pack had been his first family at some point, but Stiles wasn’t upset to admit that they weren’t anymore. It’s just how things were.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is conflicted (kind of), and Lydia makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick reminder that this is not proof read, and that there is no writing or update schedule :)

“Stop staring. It’s creepy.”

“Sorry, Bren. I just love you guys.”

Minho groaned and rolled over to face Stiles. “Who are you, and what have you done with Thomas?”

Stiles laughed and shook his head.

“No, seriously, are you on drugs?”

“Slim it, Minho. You love me too. And, anyway, it’s Stiles now.”

“What, you expect us to call you Stiles?” Sonya asked with a smirk.

“I think slinthead suits him better,” Minho said, pretending to be deep in thought. Stiles threw a pillow in his face.

“Yes, you have to call me Stiles. At least in public. It’s my legal name so you can only call me Thomas when it’s just us, okay?”

“But I was being serious,” said Minho with a pout. “Can’t I just call you slinthead?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “When did you guys become so normal? Just, go bully Gally instead. I need to get ready for class.”

“Oh! What classes are you taking?” Aris asked.

“Criminology and criminal psychology. I doubt any of you guys are doing the same.”

“Actually, I’m taking criminal psychology as well.” Harriet piped up from next to Sonya.

Stiles grinned, happy to have at least one friend in that class.

“Awesome! But you should go get ready too. You don’t want to come to class smelling like these musty apartments.”

\----

To be honest, Stiles actually wasn’t sure whether having the Gladers and Scorchers there was good or not. Of course, he’d missed them so much, and he loved seeing them again, but it was never a great idea to form a friendship with someone on the grounds of shared trauma. He’d need to actually get to know them before he could call them his friends. He’d thought he could call them friends, but no. Right now they were family. But family isn’t always friends.

Besides, there was that part of him that felt like he was betraying the pack. He knew from now that he was never going to let the two groups mix. It was just too dangerous. Both held massive secrets about his life that he didn’t want everyone to know just yet. Stiles needed to make a game plan.

  1. Get to know the Gladers/Scorchers beyond times when they were running for their lives.



  1. Distribute days evenly between pack, Gladers/Scorchers, and Stiles.



  1. Don’t pick favourites.



Seemed pretty good to Stiles.

He rummaged through his bag trying to find his notebook - his notebook that held everything important - only to get a glare from his Criminology professor.  _ Fine,  _ Stiles thought.  _ Like I’m not having an existential crisis back here.  _ He wrote it on his hand instead.

The rest of the class passed far too slowly for Stiles’ liking. Obviously, he’d chosen subjects he loved - this was college - but Stiles was eager to put his plan into action, and he couldn’t do that from the confines of his criminology class. By the time lunch rolled around, he was seriously considering just bunking off his next class and going back to take a nap in his dorm. If he wasn’t able to start getting to know at least Minho, he might as well take a nap. But apparently someone had it out for Stiles, because the pack invited themselves over for pack night. The  _ whole  _ pack. And, as soon as his last lesson ended, he dragged out walking to his dorm for as long as possible, because he didn’t want to face Minho’s wrath as he explained he was blowing him off already.

However, he was surprised to open his door to Lydia rearranging all of his belongings and chatting amiably with Minho who was sprawled across his bed (the better of the two in the room, as Stiles angrily wanted to point out).

“Oh, Stiles, there you are. I was just talking to your roommate. It’s a good thing they’ve put you together; he might be able to teach you some organisation skills.”

Lydia. The only person who’d ever been able to render the fast talking, always hyper Stiles completely at a loss for words. He stood there trying to formulate one of his usual snarky responses while she scrutinised him as if she could sense his whole past with Minho - though she probably could with her combination of banshee powers and an insanely high IQ.

“Well, I’m just gonna go,” Minho said, before he promptly jumped off his bed and left the room, presumably to go to Frypan’s.

“Wha-? Lydia, I… What just happened?” Stiles asked, rather eloquently.

The strawberry blonde sniffed haughtily and regarded him as if he was a criminal.

“Sometimes I wonder if you  _ are  _ as clever as me, or if you’ve just managed to convince us all so.”

And Stiles was left spluttering again as he dropped his bag by the door and lay down on his bed.

“So, you’re here early?”

“Obviously.”

“Just because?”

“The loft is filled with couples. Couples everywhere. And I know it shouldn’t even be that hard to deal with because we don’t even all live there, but most of the time we do basically all live there and I just feel like I’m third wheeling anywhere I go.”

“So you came and redecorated my dorm again?”

Lydia shrugged, sitting next to Stiles on his bed. “And I missed you. The loft is so lonely without someone as intelligent as myself.”

“There’s always Peter,” Stiles teased. “He’s  _ very  _ in tune with the supernatural world.”

Lydia rolled her eyes. Stiles agreed. That was pretty much how they all felt about Peter. 

“When’s everyone else coming?”

“After dinner, maybe? I don’t know. Soon.”

“Chaperone?”

Having a chaperone was a recent development. Noah and Melissa were content to let them mess around, so long as they had an adult with them at all times so the shenanigans didn’t turn into a  _ Someone Is Trying To Kill Us Again  _ situation.

“Derek.”

Stiles snorted. “Right, because Derek is responsible enough. Who’s chaperoning him?”

“Peter.”

Stiles snorted again. “Peter needs looking after too, all the Hales do. Who’s the actual chaperone? Why won’t you tell me?”

Lydia gave him no answer.

“Come on! I thought you loved me.” He exclaimed, throwing an arm over her dramatically. 

Lydia stayed silent.

“Okay, well, I know it’s not Dad, ‘cause he would’ve told me, and Melissa’s on the night shift today, so that rules them out. You can’t possibly expect me to believe that my father thinks Derek or Peter are able to control us all even if they are coming, so that means someone else is too. It’s not Deaton, obviously, he would never come, so that leaves Chris or Mr Deputy Jordan Parrish. And judging by your reluctance to tell me, and your now red face, I conclude this by deducing that our chaperone for the night is Jordan!”

“That was actually quite impressive, Stiles.” Lydia said. “Now do you see why I came to visit you?”

“Yeah, we’re just too good for them, right?” Stiles joked.

Lydia giggled, leaning into him. They stayed like that until the rest of the pack arrived.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minho is struggling more than he'd like to let on. And Thomas is keeping secrets but that's not really the main plot of the chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: yeah!! i'll finish this by friday night, definitely :)  
> also me: ok never mind, it's fine, i'll publish by sunday!
> 
> me=🤡

When Minho crept back to his room at around one in the morning, he did not expect to see Thomas sleeping and cuddling with someone he didn't recognise. Thomas had texted him a few hours prior that all his friends had left and that Minho could come back, yet clearly not  _ everyone  _ had left.

He tried to get a good look at the second person’s face, but, whoever it was, they were curled up into Thomas’ chest, while one of Thomas’ arms was holding the stranger firmly in place, almost protectively. Weird. But Minho was too tired to figure it out now, so unless the person was going to show any signs of being a danger to Thomas within the next five seconds, Minho was content with brushing his teeth and going straight to bed.

As he flipped on the light switch, he heard thunder crackle, and rain start to pour down, like he was in a movie or something. And since he and Thomas had been given the worst room in probably the whole college, Minho knew the sound of the lightning would permeate the walls easily, and keep him up all night with nightmares of being electrocuted. He scowled into the mirror, mentally preparing himself for another sleepless night. His classes were already boring enough, and he didn’t need a second reason to be falling asleep. At least the smell of the rain was nice.

Minho was shaken out of his thoughts by a gasp. The type of gasp he was all too familiar with. That was the noise of someone waking up from a particularly horrible nightmare. He peeked through the door and saw the stranger in Thomas’ bed sit up groggily, and rub at his eyes. It was dark, but Minho could’ve sworn the guy’s eyes were golden. Then Thomas woke up too, and immediately started comforting his friend. Minho forgot about the gold eyes.

Everything was silent for a moment. Minho could only hear the rain, which would’ve been relaxing if it weren’t for the occasional flashes of thunder which rang through the room, illuminating it for brief milliseconds before the boys were plunged into darkness again. Minho could just about make out the other boy crying, and Thomas talking quietly, looking equally as uncomfortable. Apparently they all disliked thunder.

Since he’d already decided that insomnia was unavoidable, he might as well leave Thomas and his friend in peace.

He let the door close softly.

\----

Minho counted himself lucky that he’d managed to fall asleep, and even luckier that it was a dreamless sleep. His neck disagreed. Every inch of his body was aching from the position he’d passed out in, but at least he’d had a bit of a rest. Mentally.

It seemed quiet beyond the bathroom. The thunder and rain had stopped some time during the night, leaving a blanket of silence in the air. Minho chanced opening the door. Thomas was still asleep, snores muffled by his pillow, but the stranger was gone. Minho had wanted to find out more about Thomas’ friend, but he supposed it wasn’t his place. Ηe’d have to wait until Thomas volunteered any information. 

He didn’t notice the open window. 

The dorm was always cold anyway.

\----

Lessons had always been a problem for Minho. He found himself daydreaming instead of concentrating, and his leg bounced up and down, buzzing with the energy he couldn’t use up by listening to his professors. Today was even worse. Minho’s every thought was consumed by the person who’d been in Thomas’ bed. Who was he? And why hadn’t Thomas told Minho anything about him? He knew people were allowed to keep secrets, of course they were, and he had no right to force Thomas to tell him anything, but he deserved to know  _ something.  _ Just, some sort of explanation.

Then Minho scolded himself for thinking that. Thomas didn’t owe him anything. Their relationship had always been like that. They hadn’t held each other to promises in a place when they could easily be broken, and they weren’t going to start now. 

Glancing at the clock, he sighed and collapsed dramatically over his desk. It hadn’t even been ten minutes. This class always felt long since none of his friends were in it, and he didn’t want to actually make new friends. And dammit, Minho was zoning out again. He was surprised his professor still passed him after he’d missed half his assignments and turned up to class half drunk, half hungover from Gally’s brew most days of the week. But he figured, as long as he answered one question, his professor couldn’t care less. It was the same in every lesson; they were only there for the paycheck, and Minho was only there for the hell of it. He’d be bored out of his mind stuck in an apartment all day. 

Today wasn’t any different - Minho was preoccupied with… different things, and everything the professor said went in one ear and out the other. To be honest, he didn’t even know what class he was in. He knew he’d been forced to take at least three classes, and he couldn’t even remember what any of them were. Everything had just happened so quickly, and thinking about some guy in Thomas’ bed wasn’t helping him concentrate. 

Minho looked at the clock again. It was broken, he decided. There was absolutely no way he still had to sit through another hour of monotone voices, and glaring white lights. The various noises had blurred together into a dull buzzing which vaguely reminded Minho of WICKED’s many facilities. Well, wasn’t that a lovely thing to be thinking of at nine in the morning?

\----

After an excruciatingly long class, Minho went for a run. He dropped off his bag in his dorm, wrinkling his nose at the smell of damp, and headed for the woods behind the red brick monstrosity that was his college. 

Finally, he could relax.

For a while, Minho had stopped running. It hadn’t been relaxing at first. It had only dredged up old memories of the screeches of grievers, and the decayed flesh of the cranks in the Scorch. But now, he relished in the feeling it gave him. He wasn’t running from anything, he was simply  _ running _ . It cleared his mind, refreshed him, energised him. Besides, it was also nice to get a lay out of wherever the hell he was.

Before he knew it, the sun had set, and rain had started to trickle over the leaves and branches onto his shoulders.

It was annoying how his classes inched along so slowly, while he felt like he’d only been running for half an hour. 

As the raindrops fell heavier, Minho thought he should probably get back. But the branches and bushes blended together until he could barely differentiate between the inky black sky, and the swampy green thorns, grabbing at his arms and legs. He didn’t know which direction he’d come from, or how to get back, and it was loud, so loud, screaming at him, and  _ ohmygod,  _ he was in the maze for the first time, he was lost and no one was going to find him, he was going to die there and all that would be left was his mangled bloody body, and he was trapped in the ivy, and the griever was right there, right in front of him, pincers raised, and the walls were moving, he was getting crushed, and he couldn’t breathe, and it hurt, it hurt so much, and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe,  _ he couldn’t breathe and- _

“Minho?”

Thomas.

And suddenly, he was okay again.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a gross filler chapter before i write something actually interesting next chapter 😃  
> basically stiles helps minho, we see a familiar face, stiles has a lil inner rant at the end cause i'm boring af

Stiles spent the first twenty minutes staring at the door before he started to worry. He was aware that Minho had a habit of skipping classes, but it didn’t usually entail disappearing for hours on end and returning at two in the morning. And although he knew there wasn’t any sort of threat to him and his friends, he couldn’t help but feel that overwhelming sense of paranoia, of hypervigilance, as Morrell had once called it. The feeling had only increased since then, until he was practically drowning in it. 

\----

Finding Minho wasn’t hard, although it didn’t help Stiles’ worry subside at all. He’d been having a flashback - most likely due to the lack of counselling they had been offered after their ordeal and the consequent PTSD that had followed - and Stiles had found him shaking uncontrollably in the forest, tears streaming down his face.

Despite his own extensive experience with panic attacks he felt utterly useless since it had been ten minutes and he still wasn’t able to calm Minho down. So, Stiles accepted defeat. It hurt to admit, but seeing as they hadn’t spoken to each other for almost a year, it made sense that he wasn’t exactly a source of comfort for Minho anymore. He probably associated Stiles with getting struck by lightning and watching brothers in all but blood die.

“Okay, Minho, I’m gonna go get Fry and see what he can do for you.” Stiles reassured, although he was pretty sure Minho could neither see nor hear him. “Is that good? Yeah? Just don’t move from here.”

He stood up from where he’d been crouched in front of Minho, and took one step towards the door before the other boy’s hand shot out quicker than he could comprehend and pulled him back down again. He mumbled something unintelligible and gripped Stiles harder.

“Hey, Minho,” Stiles started softly. “Don’t you want someone else here? I know I’m not the best person to be helping you right now.”

Minho shook his head minutely.

“Oh, okay… well, do you want some food? Or maybe bed?”

“Shut up, Thomas,” Minho said, voice barely above a whisper.

Stiles laughed quietly. “Glad to have you back. What happened?”

Minho shrugged against his shoulder, and punched him lightly in the ribs. Stiles knew it was his way of showing affection without coming across as sappy.

“You wanna talk about it? I’ve had a lot of experience with panic attacks, you know.”

Minho looked at him curiously.

“Yeah, I actually had a particularly bad period a couple of years ago.” Stiles said, shivering internally at the memory of the Nogitsune. He never wanted to feel that helpless in his own mind ever again. 

“But it always helped to talk with someone, get it all out.” He continued, not so subtly hinting to Minho to confide in him.

“Therapy’s not for everyone,” Minho groaned. “I’ve coped without it before, and I can cope without it now.”

Stiles smiled and shook his head. 

“If you say so.”

\----

Besides that _incident_ , Stiles’ week was awfully average. Normal. No panic attacks, no new supernatural creature messing things up in Beacon Hills. Just peace. Stiles found it boring. Until he saw another familiar face in the lunch hall.

Much to his prior dismay, his schedule didn’t line up with any of his friends’, which meant he was currently eating lunch by himself, or not at all.

But, apparently arriving at college a week late was Kira. He hadn’t seen her since she’d left to train with the Skinwalkers.

The minute Stiles spotted her from across the room, he attempted to tug on their embarrassingly weak pack bond, and successfully gained her attention. She glanced around the room with confusion, before catching sight of him and making her way over.

Immediately, Stiles knew her work with the Skinwalkers was done. Kira just had an aura of confidence, and she somehow looked healthier. Gone was the shy nerdy girl he’d seen in History Class so long ago.

“Stiles?”

“Miss Yukimura,” Stiles said, standing up and bowing dramatically.

Laughing, Kira sat opposite him.

“How have you been?” She asked.

“Stop with the small talk, Kira,” Stiles said with a scowl. “I think we moved past that when you helped exorcise a fox trickster spirit from my mind.”

“Ah, yes, I was wondering how long it would be before you brought that up.”

Stiles shrugged lamely. “What can I say? Now, tell me everything about the Skinwalkers. As pack researcher I need to know everything about, well, everything. And, most importantly, how are we doing with the tails?”

Although they’d never been especially close, it was nice to talk to Kira. Easy. Scott was quite often concerned with pack relations as the Alpha, and his _other_ friends weren’t in the know about the supernatural. But Kira hadn’t been there during Stiles’ missing period, so there was no pity like he so often felt from the rest of the pack.

She hadn’t yet told Scott she was back, as she didn’t know what their current relationship would be like - Stiles said nothing for fear of being yelled at by the formidable kitsune - so that made Stiles the first to see her again. He did his best to catch her up on what had happened since she’d left, but there wasn’t much to say from his perspective since he’d been with WICKED for the half time. Still, Kira was eager to find out all she could about the pack before returning to what was probably a completely new family to her.

Lunch ended, and Stiles and Kira parted ways with the promise of talking again. He left the lunch hall with a slightly stronger pack bond, and a tentative start to what he hoped would be a close friendship with the kitsune.

\----

As much as Stiles loved Minho, sometimes he wanted to punch the guy. Most of the time, he lacked any common sense (although, arguably, so did Stiles) because Stiles couldn’t figure out for the life of him why it seemed like a good idea to go for another run in the same forest considering how the last one had ended. 

And, on that note, Stiles also wondered why all of his friends were content to put themselves in life threatening situations just for the fun of it. Their suicidal behaviours were really wearing him down. It had only been a couple of weeks since he’d started at college, and he’d already had to be the voice of reason in eight (!) of Scott’s “plans of action”, two of Brenda’s “ideas”, and five of Minho’s “bonding experiences” - all of which usually ended with Stiles in pain and/or someone dying, although that one was mostly back in Beacon Hills. Stiles was sarcastic, sure, but he wasn’t willing to sacrifice himself again. No thank you, that could stay strictly as a last minute option.

On top of that, Stiles had suddenly become a therapist for anyone who deemed him good enough. He couldn’t count how many times he’d found himself sitting at his lunch table and nodding along to Kira’s explanation of her worries about visiting the pack as he occasionally offered some golden nugget of advice for her. Somehow, in the past month, everyone he knew had, if unknowingly, collectively decided to spill their hearts to him, giving him a whole new responsibility he wasn’t sure if he was ready to take on. Like, couldn’t the pack at least talk to Scott? He was their Alpha, even if he didn’t act like it too often.

And, while he was internally complaining about that, he also wanted to talk to (read: argue with) Scott about why he was being left on the sidelines in all important pack business. Just because he was human, and mostly worked on the research part of things, it didn’t mean he couldn’t protect himself. 

Okay, so, yeah, he let a demonic fox spirit in one time, but he was pretty handy with a baseball bat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh yeah i hate this lol  
> but ig it's better than nothing?  
> tbh i just wanted an excuse to introduce kira to the story but i didn't want to rush it and add her into the next chapter (cause that's gonna be FULL of other stuff so ig i had to make this crappy stuff to bring her into it)  
> once again: i did not proof read this so just comment if you find any mistakes :)


End file.
